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"displeasures" poems
Rising from the darkness, the evergreen dilemmatic soul waking from the displeasures bound by reluctance. And slowly it slithers upon the filth in life only to fall back into the reverie. Disgraced eminence, of this priceless concoction. Enigmatical views, but doomed by nature. Born to change, with time , with people. To stay phlegmatic  as it writes its own destiny. Dreams of falling into the lap of luxury like any ordinary soul. But with a hint of transgression. No robotic means, just emulation. Pulled by the ties of prevalence. Swindler of identity, benevolent of jauntiness. Passes through many loops of croquet. Yet saves its inscrutable soul from the disrespectful world.
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
The Chameleon Soul
i pray in time, friend, that this you understand, that it has to be my sweetest displeasure and yet my most unjust liberty to tell you that every quiet passing along a young and hopeful causeway was almost gladly spent finding, some how or another . . .     every day new to discover you over and again,     so to drink in with haste the strange august nectar     and draw into my lungs the sovereign aura     that drift from your autumn eyes.        how to hold and to press gently your hands     just a moment more between mine in a way     that kisses with, in consummate balance,     a firm allowance and a free imperative.     how to mold, to sculpt, to shape     my habitual pining over your subtle forms     into an simple, ever green, professant blessing     a splendid, deep down, ours religion.     how to capture your innocent stargaze     in the longing embrace of my own     so that for one moment so perfectly brief     we were one great blossoming cosmos.     how to be one who aligns our beating royal suns     who calms our winters and ignites our summers     who dances and dies in the storms and the fires     that splash from your glimmering eyes.     how to be whom you adore until the requiem day     when our confessional ******* swell and crash in the cascading sand     to the sonorous beat of a final splendid rapturous breathtaking harmonious                     Yes.     as fury and ecstasy ripple and bound     in our lush fantastical burial ground.     as our progenies daydream of kingdoms to come     and sing with an amorous hymn on their tongues. yes, and so it has been now for days and for tides that my latent creations in whatever measures those passions, when sparked and then quenched in an instant are no more or less than my sweetest displeasures.
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Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
my sweetest displeasure
i pray in time, friend, that this you understand, that it has to be my sweetest displeasure and yet my most unjust liberty to tell you that every quiet passing along a young and hopeful causeway was almost gladly spent finding, some how or another . . .     every day new to discover you over and again,     so to drink in with haste the strange august nectar     and draw into my lungs the sovereign aura     that drift from your autumn eyes.        how to hold and to press gently your hands     just a moment more between mine in a way     that kisses with, in consummate balance,     a firm allowance and a free imperative.     how to mold, to sculpt, to shape     my habitual pining over your subtle forms     into an simple, ever green, professant blessing     a splendid, deep down, ours religion.     how to capture your innocent stargaze     in the longing embrace of my own     so that for one moment so perfectly brief     we were one great blossoming cosmos.     how to be one who aligns our beating royal suns     who calms our winters and ignites our summers     who dances and dies in the storms and the fires     that splash from your glimmering eyes.     how to be whom you adore until the requiem day     when our confessional ******* swell and crash in the cascading sand     to the sonorous beat of a final splendid rapturous breathtaking harmonious                     Yes.     as fury and ecstasy ripple and bound     in our lush fantastical burial ground.     as our progenies daydream of kingdoms to come     and sing with an amorous hymn on their tongues. yes, and so it has been now for days and for tides that my latent creations in whatever measures those passions, when sparked and then quenched in an instant are no more or less than my sweetest displeasures.
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Today, I picked up flowers of life with glee Tomorrow, the thorns of death shall pick me without any glee Today I enjoyed the temporary pleasures of the world Tomorrow, I shall dwell with the displeasures of death The funeral ahead is declaring ‘O humans of this earth’ ‘Follow my lead since I am your guide.’
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Jun 11, 2021
Jun 11, 2021 at 1:13 PM UTC
Today or Tomorrow
words from a conversation we had days ago echo in my mind turning into a lullaby, softly coaxing my eyelids shut. welcoming deep sleep to my weary heart. each part of our souls intertwine to create a perfect panoply facilitated by the moon. you and i under the same sky, all of a sudden the displeasures from the day before slowly melt away into the dark nighttime. in the syzygy of our cosmic hearts we bask in the ethereal glow encompassed comfortably by the stars and moons. involved in a state of a constant somnambulism so i never have leave the blissful reality conceived in my subconscious. dreamers indulgence, walking hand in hand, free and filled with halcyon in the safety of sleep.
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Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 9:55 AM UTC
a dreamers indulgence
The If's, the But's, the Why's The Who, the constant sighs, The mighty, they flourish, you think, The unwanted, just dither and die. The popping that leads to forevers, The chanting, the calling of names, The longing that heals the displeasures, The knowing that things stay the same. The forgotten so eager they were, Their heads buried in worries so common , The gifted, bright, almost shining, Dwelling on all who have long been forgotten.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Unless You have Got It!
I never understood mathematics; however I can add your negligence, multiply my displeasures to summarize your subtracting feelings, and calculate your ******* behavior. Let's divide.
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Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 4:17 AM UTC
rise over those that don't matter and run
When they see you as weak Its only a tweak to show them my teeth Hanging on to false impressions A miniscule measure  to show you my displeasures Running away from actuals and true measure Just to find a way that's better
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Apr 4, 2024
Apr 4, 2024 at 8:06 PM UTC
The world
Every once in a while, Something strange happns. I dream. Sometimes, I’m not asleep. Dreams are everything you want, but just can’t have. I dream of the past. I go through old notebooks amd folders, work that has consumed hours of my life. It reminds me of happier times. So, I sit on the floor and I dream. Every once in a while. I have courage. I build up the strength to sit and listen as I'm told everything i'm not and everything I could be, or at least could have been. I build up courage to talk when all my throat and mouth wants me to do is shut up. Every once in a while, I can't take any more. The tears run down my face for reasons unknown to myself and the rest of the world. I am a shell. Empty. Void of anything remotely human. I put earbuds in to make myself look busy, but no music is playing. I listen as people around me question me and my existence as I sit and pretend not to hear. Every once in a while, regaurdless of all the displeasures, I don't mind and I am happy. These periods are more brief, so I grasp them tightly as they begin to fade and try to hold on. On one of these rare occasions, I found love. and every once in a while, they tell me they love me. And from that every once in a while... I feel Joy.
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
Every Once in a while